


Janice Lester is a Dick!

by JewelQueen



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e24 Turnabout Intruder, F/M, Five Year Mission shenanigans, Gender Issues, Janice Lester is a Terrible Human Being, Kirk has to work through a few things, OOC Kirk-ish, Other, Poor Spock, Pre-Slash, Scotty and his dirty jokes, Spock is super patient and understanding, Star Trek: Beyond hasn't happened yet, Trans Kirk, no real slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8812480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JewelQueen/pseuds/JewelQueen
Summary: Sometime during their Five Year Mission, Dr. Janice Lester seizes the opportunity to take revenge against James T. Kirk.  Her plan fails--mostly thanks to Spock--but, unlike their original timeline counterparts, her actions start to take its toll on Kirk's mental state.  Luckily, Kirk has a Spock all too willing to help out--however his Captain needs.





	1. How It All Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Working title/WIP. Just a little something I dreamed up when trying to make my school commute go faster.
> 
> Just a head's up, a working knowledge of "Turnabout Intruder" helps but is not needed (all you need to know is Janice Lester is Kirk's ex and goes a little crazy trying to take over the Enterprise by possessing Kirk's body and killing him in her body). I haven't seen ST: Beyond, so no spoilers! Also, I used the Wiki Timeline for Stardates.
> 
> Kirk's experience with his gender identity is heavily based off of my own (in reverse) but I'm more than happy to accept suggestions.

_First Officer’s Personal Log, Stardate 2262.3_

_The Captain’s behavior is still adversely affected by the events four days ago when Dr. Janice Lester had attempted to take possession of the Captain’s body and command over the_ Enterprise _. On duty he remains in complete control of his faculties, however, I have observed several...startling changes when he is off duty._

_Most notably, the Captain is isolating himself from other members of the crew, including myself and--_

_Computer, end recording. Delete message._

It is not likely that the noise would have been picked up in the recording, but Spock found that he did not wish to “try his luck” as Kirk might have said. It was not his intention to cause Starfleet to doubt their youngest Captain’s ability to command, but the sound of glass breaking in the distance would cast the kind of intrigue he wished not to receive.

He rushed through the doors with more haste than usual, calculating the possibilities and method of another intruder, but found Kirk alone in his room, standing over the shattered remains of a replicated cup and shoulders heaving.

“Captain, are you well?” Spock queried from a respectable distance. There was a twitch that gave an indication that he was heard, but no verbal response. “Captain, I would prefer if you would respond verbally so that I might ascertain your well-being. Captain Kirk. Jim--?”

“I’m not him!” Kirk finally shouted, turning around to face Spock with one hand covering half of himself. There were fresh tear tracks, Spock noted. “I’m not--please Spock, don’t...”

“I must admit that I do not understand. What do you mean ‘I am not him’?”

“I just...forget it,” he sighed, dropping his hand and gaze to the floor. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Spock took a step forward in a deliberate movement. “I believe the phrase is ‘try me’,”

Kirk looked up, his eyes glimmering, and wiped his face with disgust. “It’s, uh, illogical human issues,” he hedged, watching Spock closely. “Ever since Janice, I don’t...I feel wrong. I don’t feel like me anymore.”

“What would make you feel ‘right’, Jim?”

Kirk scowled fiercely, arms curling around himself as if to protect himself from an invisible blow. “For starters, that. I don’t-I’m not Jim anymore. I don’t want to be him.”

Spock stiffened. “Do you believe that-”

“No,” Kirk exhaled, squeezing himself tighter. “No, I know she’s gone. The transfer was 100% effective. This is...me. She made that abundantly clear, this is all me.”

“Captain, if there is anything I can do to assist you…”

Kirk finally cracked something resembling a smile and unwound his arms. “I know, Spock. I just need to figure it out for myself, first.” 

Spock nodded, accepting the silent dismissal and returning to his quarters. He chose to forego replacing the personal log he started in favor of meditating. Their brief conversation replayed in his mind and he analyzed what mental ill could be plaguing his Captain. Despite his denial, it could be very likely that some sort of psychic transference from Dr. Lester, akin to emotional transference from a mind meld, is to be blamed. Examining the machine she used yielded more questions than answers. They still do not completely understand how it works and the Captain was far too eager to leave the site lightyears behind them. But without his express permission, which seems unlikely to be given at this point in time, there is no way to confirm his suspicions.

Blowing out the incense, Spock rose to retire to bed with only one question remaining unsolved: what was the cause for the Captain’s sudden aversion to his own name?


	2. Heartfelt Greetings

In human terms, Spock would be considered something of a genius.  Among his own species, intellect was a prized commodity and, therefore, his own status within his community was not a marvel.  Unless if one considered the view that he had achieved great intellectual success despite his half-breed genetics.  Spock elected to ignore that view.

Nevertheless, he was a genius and he had spent several years on Earth, acquainting himself to curious human customs.  Not in the least of which revolved around human mating behaviors.  His research had come in handy when he met Nyota and courted her as her culture would demand, but after some consideration, 16.45 hours to be exact, it had also proved illuminating for Kirk’s recent behaviour.

All that was left to do was test his hypothesis.

He knocked on his Captain’s door approximately 2.38 hours after the conclusion of Alpha shift, which they shared.  According to his calculations, Kirk has continually chosen the first thirty minutes to an hour after his shift to engage in rigorous physical activity that will aid in the temporary increase of metabolism thereby which he spends the next thirty minutes consuming his recommended calories for the selected time in the mess hall.  The remaining time is spent in his quarters alone, under the excuse of “catching up on paperwork”.  While Spock is aware that Kirk is, indeed, a good Captain, he regularly employs the human tendency to “procrastinate” the “paperwork” side of captaincy.  Therefore, it is only logical to assume that Kirk is 91.5% likely to not be busy and 100% likely to be found in his room free to begin a private discussion.

As Spock did not make out the sounds of a PADD being put down before hearing “Enter,”, he can only assume his conclusion was correct.

Kirk was sitting at his desk, an antique book before him.  He sighed, setting the book down carefully after making note of the page he was on. “I should have guessed,” he said softly, gesturing to the seat across him.  Spock inclined his head and took the offered spot. “What brings you by, Mr. Spock? Ship business?”

“Indeed not.  I wish to make a personal query, Captain,”

There was a tightness around the corners of his eyes that suggested unflattering thoughts. “You may speak freely, Commander,”

Spock leaned forward, folding his hands calmly on the table before them and watching Kirk mirror him. “What are your personal pronouns, Captain?”

The same scowl from the other night briefly graced his features before he smoothed himself into a decent approximation of a blank face. “He/him, Spock. You know this.”

Spock allowed a momentary cessation in conversation, catching Kirk’s eye to impress upon him the full gravity of their discussion and his openness.  “Do you really think so lowly of my intelligence that I would accept that answer to be the full truth, Jim?”

The chair scraped backwards as Kirk stood up with such swiftness that it nearly toppled over.  He placed his hands on the edges of the table, body looming over Spock with only inches to separate them and a face of righteous fury.  It would have made an impressive aggressive display were it not for how his arms trembled under the onslaught of his emotional state.  Spock merely blinked.

“How _dare_ you! Do you think you can undermine my authority by playing these...these mind-games with me? Did you really think your cheap tactics would work, that _I’m_ so simple-minded to fall for your emotional manipulation?

“I’m a man, god-dammit,” he slammed his fist down on the table for emphasis. “I’m a fucking man! James T. Kirk, I’ve got a penis and a track record a mile long of accomplices that can attest to it! I’m--”

Spock reached out to grasp his wrist and Kirk cut himself off, looking down at their hands with worry and concern replacing his anger.  The memory of the last time, the first time, he had touched his Captain in such a familiar way rose to both of their minds even though Kirk was not in his correct body at the time.

Perhaps that was inaccurate as well.

He stood up and stepped closer, never letting go of his loose hold. “Captain, your speech was quite passionate and may have well convinced a lesser individual, but you forget:  I know your mind. The mind cannot lie,”

“Spock,” Kirk whispered, turning away and closing his eyes. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t lose my ship, my crew…”

“ _Kosu_ , you will not lose anything. You are still our Captain, always.”

Kirk opened his eyes wide, blinking rapidly as he choked out a hysterical laugh.  Spock allowed him to pull out of his grasp as he slid to the floor, covering his mouth and then biting his knuckle to muffle his anguished cries.  Spock crossed his arms behind his back and waited.

“It hurts,” he said, voice rough and eyes still wet.  “It hurts to look at them when they’re so pretty and I’m...I remember what it felt like to be in her body, to be her, and Spock,” He looked up to meet his eyes. “I’ve never felt so happy before, even when I was so weak and my ship was being stolen from me. I almost wanted to stay as her forever.”

“There is no shame in what you speak, you sacrificed your happiness for the safety and well-being of your crew. _Shiyau thol'es k'thorai ri k'ahm,”_

Kirk sniffed and stood up shakily. “‘Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them’. Is that what you mean?”

“Captain, you must know that I do not intend to allow you to continue suffering. You have done enough. You have sacrificed enough. Now, ‘to thine own self be true’,” Spock quoted back, a small part of him delighted to see the light return in his eyes.

“I think,” he began shyly, running a hand through his hair and giving a half-smile. “I mean, I’ve always kinda liked the name, Jaime?”

 _“Na’shaya_ , Jaime. Would you like to play a game of chess?”

  
He would deny it, but Spock felt his lips quirk when Jaime let loose a round of full-body laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get all of my Vulcan from VLD and all of my Shakespeare from, well, Shakespeare.
> 
> Kosu - word for woman/womankind, adult female humanoid. In this context, I'm using it as a term of endearment for a familiar person that identifies as female/feminine.
> 
> Shiyau thol'es k'thorai ri k'ahm - Vulcan phrase "Nobility lies in action, not in name". Spock is mildly chastising Kirk for feeling guilty.
> 
> Na'shaya- Greetings/Welcome/Salutations


	3. Chess And Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have posted earlier, but I've been trying to make every chapter aside from the first/prologue at least two pages long. So I hope you enjoy the length!
> 
> Also, if you didn't know, Vulcans "kiss" with their hands and I have no clue how chess works.

“Did I ever tell you,” Jaime began, thoughtfully fingering her rook before choosing to send her knight out instead. “About the time I played dress-up way back when I was a little boy before Frank came into the picture?”

Spock studied the board carefully.  He has since learned not to underestimate the seemingly random moves Jaime likes to employ.  “You have not,” he said, sending a pawn out to sacrifice.  “I would be most gratified to hear it, Jaime,”

Jaime did not take his bait. “It wasn’t the first time I put on my mom’s shoes, but it was the first time I was caught,” She rocked her queen back and forth as she laughed at the memory.  “I wasn’t paying attention--I usually paid very good attention, hypervigilance, you know?--and my mom found me with my face half-way caked with makeup--she loves the old-fashioned kind--wearing this green dress shirt, it must’ve been one of the ‘Fleet’s attempts to make the uniform more fashionable.

“But, anyway, it was huge on me and I thought it was a dress so I slipped on my favourite pair of her black pumps and push up the sleeves so I could gussy up like a girl the night before her prom. I was so caught up, I didn’t notice her until it was too late.  I thought she was going to ground me or something,” Her voice took on a more wistful tone.  “But she just laughed, wiped my face clear so she could show me how to properly put makeup on, and then we danced to classic music from the late 20th century. I think it was the only time she saw me for me, instead of my father…”

The queen tipped over and the king slid into her spot on the board when Jaime’s hand fell away

“What happened after, Jaime?” Spock asked, finding that her story was more engaging than their board and his inevitable win.

“She married Frank and went back to the stars. And Frank didn’t think boys should play with girly things,” She shrugged.  “It was bad enough when he caught me fooling around with other guys, so I just...stopped thinking that way. I pretended I wanted something else when I got caught looking at girls too long and it was just easier to forget.”

She stood up. Spock followed suit.  “Well, Mr. Spock, it seems that I will be checkmated in three turns. Good game,”

“It is always a pleasure, Jaime. Especially when I win,”

She grinned. “Hey, now, don’t you forget that our matches are pretty 50-50 most of the time. I’ve got you on the ropes!”

“We shall see,” he said, ducking his head.  “I shall take my leave now. Good night, Captain,”

“Night, Spock,” she called.  “And...thank you for not letting me forget,”

“‘Thanks’ are illogical, Captain. I simply behaved according to the only logical option provided,” he said again as he stepped out of the room.  The door began to shut just as Jaime scoffed at his words.

It was still early in the evening, 18:28 to be precise, but Spock had a better understand of human behavior, especially in regards to his particularly confusing Captain, and knew that humans liked to have time alone to be with their thoughts after an emotional trial.  It was not something unknown to Vulcans, even less Spock himself, and fascinatingly logical for a species so keen on running their lives in illogical manners.  But it had the added benefit in this situation that allowed Spock time to pursue other errands.

Because she would be easier to find and most likely anticipated his arrival, Spock chose to begin his first order of business by visiting Nyota.

“Spock, what brings you here?” she asked without surprise or concern, merely questioning the drive behind his arrival.  In 89% of cases, she was exceedingly logical for a human, the reason for his acceptance of courtship while attending Starfleet Academy.  He felt most at ease with her than among any other cadet presumably because, as a gifted xenolinguistics major, she so often catered to cultural sensitivities as if it was natural for her to do so.  And, although he was not fond of entertaining the thought, reminded him of the same quiet dignity that his mother displayed as a human living amongst Vulcans.

Nevertheless, he had chosen well.

He held out two fingers for her to take, which she attended to with a slight quirk of her eyebrows.  He felt her curiosity and some bemusement.  “What can you tell me about the meaning behind ‘gussy up like a girl the night before her prom’?”

She furrowed her eyebrows in contemplation.  “Well, I can tell you that ‘proms’ used to have strong cultural significance in adolescent lives. They still exist, but the importance has lessened. I think the reference is to a ‘senior prom’, which was considered the most important, and was meant for significant others to enjoy a night together which often led to sex, particularly the loss of virginity.

“‘Gussy up’--I don’t know if I’ve come across it before. It’s not a widely used term. It’s obvious that it relates to getting ready for something important, probably dressing up nicely, but I couldn’t tell you more without context,” she finished, looking a little frustrated.

“That is adequate. I wished to compare my extrapolation with your expertise,”

Her eyes flashed and she smiled brightly. “You flatter me, Spock,” He knew from her tone and experience that she was employing the human act of “teasing” him.

“I was merely stating a fact,”  He reached out to caress the side of her face, which she turned into with the briefest touch of her lips against his palm.  “Your mastery is unparalleled.”

“Shall I see you tonight?” she asked, voice soft and eyes dark.

“That is uncertain,” he murmured, taking his hand away.  “I have yet one more pressing duty to attend to that I am unable to foresee the length of time it will delay me,”

She took a step back. “Then I’ll let you to it. You have my code,”

“Indeed, I do,” Spock said, holding out two fingers once more which she quickly accepted.  “I will endeavour to hasten the process,”

“I’ll hold you to it, Spock,”

  
He nodded once and stepped out of her quarters, taking a moment to straighten minute shifts in his uniform, before pressing onwards with his next item of business.


	4. Of Scotty's and Suspicions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was torn between going balls to the wall with Scotty's accent or just letting your imagination do the work, and I decided on the middle ground which seems to be pretty common.
> 
> Also, the plot (what plot) thickens! And I tried looking up how uniforms get made but came up with nada so replicators!

 

Perhaps it should be disconcerting that the Senior Crew stuck to such regular schedules, but it made Spock’s efforts in tracking Lieutenant Commander Scott much easier.  In fact, he was by far the easiest of the crew to find given that, when he was off-duty, there were only one of two places he could be found:  in the mess hall, or deep within the bowels of the Enterprise tinkering away at her nacelles or his illegal

\---( _ “Oi! I’ll have y’know it’s naught illegal, Mr. Spock, it’s simply against regulations,” _

_ “That is precisely my point, Mr. Scott,” _

_ “Ah, Spock, let’em have his still. It’s not like it’s doing any harm, right Mr. Scott?” _

_ “Aye, you bet your pretty-boy arse, Captain!” _ )---still.

It was the latter where Spock found him.

“Mr. Scott, might I have your assistance in a private matter?”

Scotty spared a look to Keenser, who flicked his eyes and skittered away, before wiping his hands on a towel hung by his belt.  “Well, sure, Mr. Spock. What can I do for ya?”

Spock hesitated.  For a fraction of a second, he doubted his intentions, but it would be illogical to have asked for assistance in such a manner only to have nothing to offer.  “Is it within the realm of possibility to program the replicators on this ship to create personalized clothing items?”

“Aye, I can get our replicators to just about anythin’ given enough elbow grease. ‘Course, it’d be a mite simpler just to file a requisition for a new uniform, as I’m sure you well know,” Scotty said, a touch confused.

“This would not be a typical uniform and I would prefer not to get Starfleet involved, if possible,”

Scotty put a hand over his heart. “Jings! Is it really you, Mr. Spock?”

Spock crossed his hands behind his back. “My desire to not get Starfleet involved is due to the privacy of the individual for whom I ask this task of you. As I intend to present this item as a ‘gift’, secrecy must be maintained--”

“Say no more, Mr. Spock,” Scotty said, grinning as he cut him off.  “I’d be doing the same if I had a lass as pretty as your Nyota, you dog, you,”

Spock chose not to correct Scotty’s incorrect assumption as it was a much better explanation than he was able to give at the moment, and he seemed to be far more receptive to help with the false assumption.  He also chose to ignore the second half of his statement entirely, proceeding only with his affirmation.  “There is an outdated Starfleet uniform of a green color from a period between 2238-2241 that I wish to have a replica made in a ‘dress’ form. Is that satisfactory information for you to produce an accurate result?”

“You want a green dress? Aye, I can get that to you in a jiffy, no problem,” Scotty said cheerfully.  “And I’ll keep your proclivities under wrap as well, Mr. Spock.” He added with a wink. 

If he were inclined to indulge himself in human idiosyncrasies, he would have chosen that moment to employ an “eye-roll”.  As it was, he was only severely tempted.  “I thank you, Mr. Scott. Please be sure to notify me immediately when it is finished.”

 

*~*~*

 

Since their conversation, the Captain has been much happier, especially while on duty.  Her change in demeanor acted not unlike the reappearance of the sun after a particularly dreary and cloudy day.  To be more accurate, even if it would require the use of more figurative language, it was like a change in atmospheric pressure from a higher gravitational force to standard g that allowed one’s self to breathe with an ease that one was not aware of becoming habituated to such previous difficulty in breathing.

But, she was still maintaining her persona of masculinity to the rest of her crew.  She had made clear to Spock that, “under no circumstances”, should he refer to her in any manner that suggested she had doubt of her public identity.  While it is illogical to deny one’s true self and desires, her fears were not unfounded.  The perceived sudden change in her identity so soon after the “body-switching” event could be attributed to Doctor Janice Lester’s involvement than Kirk’s own prerogative, and disrupt the chain of command once more.  It would also complicate Kirk’s chances at “transitioning”, should she choose to undergo the surgical and hormonal procedures sooner rather than later, as Starfleet would desire a “full work-up” of both psychological and physical evaluations to be scrutinized under extreme detail.  Even prior to her realization, Kirk was not a fan of the most routine of check-ups.

So, this too, Spock kept to himself.  And, in return, at the end of their shift, Jaime would turn to him with a small but powerful smile, the edges of her eyes crinkling with warmth, place her hand on his forearm and squeeze gently.  The contact lasted mere seconds but Spock found it difficult not to return the gesture, to reach out with his own hand.  Instead, he blinked once and her hand fell away as she walked to the turbolift with a lightness to her steps.

“The Captain sure seems to have gotten over his moodiness,” Uhura said unassumingly from Spock’s side.  He turned his body towards her and she also reached out, wrapping one arm around Spock’s forearm, with much more bodily contact.  “I don’t know what you did, but I’m thankful for it,”

“I am uncertain as to what you are referring,” he stated simply.

Uhura’s eyes left the spot Jaime previously occupied, having caught the lift first, and darted to look at him.  “I know you, Spock. And that touch screams gratitude,”

“Illogical.”  She huffed at him and indicated with a tug that they should also enter the turbolift.

“Regardless, you’re up to something. I can see you plotting away in that brain of yours,” She reached up to place a close-mouthed kiss at his temple when the doors shut behind them.  Spock shivered.  “I don’t know what it is yet, but I will find out,”

“Of that, I have no doubt, Nyota,” he murmured, allowing himself to hold her close while still in the privacy of the lift.  She was his to touch, his intended.  Less than marriage, but more than a betrothal, and yet…

And yet he could not focus on her while his Captain was still in distress.  For now, Kirk was in no immediate danger, but Spock found his emotions and thoughts were no less demanding under the surface of logic as when Khan had forced his Captain to do the unthinkable.

The lift opened but Spock did not exit.  Nyota quirked her head.  “I must meditate,” he said and she only nodded, leaving him to join the rest of the crew in the mess hall.  The doors shut again just as his communicator beeped.

“Spock here,”

“Mr. Spock! I’ve got your parcel ready if ye’d like to do a hand-off. ‘M starving, so’s I was just about to head up to the mess,”

“Affirmative, I will meet you outside the premises. Spock out.”

It appears as if he will be going to the mess hall after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is Spock asking Scotty and Uhura for help when we all know he's more than capable of doing all this on his own, you may be asking, and that's a good question. It's for a reason, I promise!


	5. The One With All the Sex Jokes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus, but trying to upload once a day wasn't working over break. I know it's a little shorter than I try to aim for, but honestly, it cracks me up so I thought it was a great spot to stop for a bit. Also, I'm going to try to finish what little there is left by uploading once a day, every three days max.

Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott was already standing a few paces outside of the doorway to the mess hall, somehow making himself look inconspicuous even with a rather obvious and attention-grabbing bright green and gold box tucked neatly under his right arm. Spock approached him swiftly and directed his body to cover the paper-decorated package from view of any passing crew members.

“Not a moment too soon, Mr. Spock. I just arrived here m’self. Well, here ya go,” he said brightly, handing the box over to him with both hands. Spock gingerly accepted it, examining the outsides and the garishly gold ribbon tied around it. “I took the liberty of spicing up the package for ya. Sometimes half the fun is in the unwrappin’ of the present, if you know what I mean,” he said, leaning in with a bit of a wink.

Spock _did not_ roll his eyes but he quirked an eyebrow. “I assume, then, the production went satisfactorily?”

“Ach, well, I ran into a wee bit of a problem. When I was reconfiguring some old code, the machine ran into a read error, so the colour is a bit off and the dress might be a bit loose for yer lass--but that makes getting out of it so much easier, aye?”

Spock blinked, his raised eyebrow twitching. “I do not know how I am meant to respond to that,”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, laddie, I’m just takin’ the piss while I can. You don’t exactly give out many openin’s,” he said still grinning and elbowing Spock.

“And I shall rectify that immediately,” he stated, posture just a tad more stiff as he straightened out his uniform. “I do appreciate your efforts and I must remind you to keep this quiet, if that is all?”

“Yeah, yeah--wait, ain’t ya gonna have a bite of somethin’? Don’t it seem logical since we’re already hoverin’ outside of th’mess?” he asked, mostly dropping his previous tone for something resembling seriousness. Unfortunately, it’s the most one could expect from one Montgomery Scott.

Spock paused, allowing time to consider a number of possible answers. He decided to go with the truth, or at least, the truth as Scotty saw it. “I have previously told Nyota that I was unable to join her due to the pressing nature of other obligations. To join you now would undo my machinations by exposing me as having told a lie. That is not the atmosphere I wish to predate my ‘surprise’,”

Scotty considered that for a moment, before nodding. “Aye, I suppose it is better to go stomach-hungry than the other sort of hungry, eh?” He didn’t wait for a response, chuckling to himself as he walked into the mess without Spock.

Perhaps he actually was in need of some meditation after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shame on you, Scotty.


	6. Pretty Woman

In the end, Spock chose to meditate solely because he was as of yet too early to give Jaime her present in privacy. If it so happened that most of his musing was over Lieutenant Commander Scott’s unfortunate need to make “dirty jokes,” then it was purely because it was the freshest encounter in which some, very small, manner of emotion was elicited from him in response.

Nevertheless, his meditation allowed him to engage in an hour’s worth of a productive expenditure of time. Enough so that he was extinguishing his incense just as Kirk was arriving at his room. “Enter,” he said, rising from his pose.

Jaime bounded in as the doors hiss behind her, with a bright grin. “What’cha ring me for, Spock? Nice robes, by the way,”

“I am pleased they prove appealing to you, as they are a traditional clothing of my people...and they bring comfort to me,” he said, allowing a moment to grieve for the many who were lost. Jaime’s eyes seemed to dim, and her smile falter. “But I ‘rang you’ so that I could give you a gift, though it was not crafted by my hands alone,”

Her smile bounced back as she saw the box that Spock collected and laughed. “Please tell me you were responsible for the wrapping,”

“I am not. Although, I do find the illogical decoration rather fitting,”

“I don’t know why on earth you could possibly have decided to give me a gift, it’s nowhere near my birthday, and gifts are ‘illogical,'” she teased, although made no efforts to return the box. Spock watched as her fingers carefully slid underneath the tape to prevent tearing the paper and pull delicately on the lace of the bow in order to preserve it. His oral cavity seemed to have a reduction in saliva presently for an unknown reason. Eventually, the present was undressed without a blemish, and Jaime let her fingers caress the white cardboard box tenderly before flipping the lid off and gasping. One hand flew to her mouth as she glanced back at Spock, although he could not bring himself to meet her eyes.

“Spock. This is…” She shook her head, laughter bubbling to her lips as she frantically shook the dress out. 

“It is! It is!” she squealed, pressing it against her body and spinning around in a mimicry of dance.

“It is not quite,” Spock corrected, finally gaining control over his functions. “Mister Scott was unable to render the design the same colour as the uniform you once wore, and I have estimated your--”

“I don’t care. I love it! I love you, I-oh,” She stopped, blushing as she looked to the ground. “Spock, I, uh, you don’t have to, er--”

Spock cleared his throat which brought her gaze back up. “Perhaps, you’d like to try it on, Captain?” he asked, softly.

Her stance changed, widening with more sure footing, shoulders up and back straight, almost in full military salute. “Yes, you’re right, Commander. Just--give me a moment, yeah?”

“Of course, Jaime.”

Her smile returned, small but there, as she nodded and went through to their adjoining bathroom.

She returned, some moments later, stepping out shyly. “Well, how do I look, Mister Spock?”

Spock examined her. She had been growing out her hair lately--still within regulation--so her bangs drifted with a curl over her forehead in a way that imitated longer styles. Her eyes were outlined faintly, drawing more attention to their bright colour, and her lips were darkened to the same shade as the apple she was eating when he first noticed her.

The dress itself had a modest v-cut outlined in a bold black which suited her chest nicely. The colour was closer to a sea green than the true green, but, when matched with her eyes, seemed to be the more appropriate choice. The sleeves were long, clinging to her arms, and had the customary gold trim. A built-in belt with the Command insignia as the ‘buckle’ cinched around her waist, accentuating it, and giving a hint of curves. The dress fell to the top of her knees, with a slow sloping point over her right thigh and gold trim all around as well. Her feet were dressed in the woman’s version of their Starfleet Issued boots, which came higher up the calves, to complete the look. For a fraction of a second, Spock imagined her wearing a stolen Science Uniform, perhaps even one of his, and felt a rolling of primal instincts within him.

“In a word: perfect,” he murmured. Jaime's cheeks reddened, and she ducked her head with a smile.

“It’s all thanks to you,” she protested weakly. There was a moment of heavy silence between them before she coughed politely, looking back up at him with a hint of resignation in her smile. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to, um, stare into the mirror for a little while before I have to go back to being...me,”

Spock only inclined his head, preoccupied with many thoughts all clamoring to be considered. He registered the hiss of the door shutting and the loss of his Captain without even a blink of the eye, busy formulating his next plan of action. One far more difficult, as the Captain would play the pivotal role in this one, whether she was ready to or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, where are they heading next?


	7. The Pointy Eared Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring, a-bit-of-a-downer Spock, now with Bones! 
> 
> Also, yes, it's short again but the next chapter is going to be full of emotion and drama!

Spock devoted precisely 22.86 hours to pondering the best method of convincing Jaime to reveal the truth before giving up on selecting one without the aid of a particular person. His Captain was a particularly stubborn woman and would resist all attempts he had thought through, perhaps even to the point as to permanently revert to her “James” persona. Though admirable when her extreme devotion was used towards the safety of her crew, her insistent need to prioritize others before herself and her fear of rejection by the authority figures in her life would only hasten unfortunate happenstances--and, eventually--her death. It was for this reason, and perhaps what he could only describe as a “bad feeling” should this charade to continue, that he resolved himself to defy his Captain’s orders.

“Why, if it isn’t the hobgoblin himself,” Doctor Leonard McCoy drawled in his peculiar Southern manner. “What brings you to my SickBay of your own volition?”

“I come to discuss a personal matter with you,” he said, folding his hands behind his back. “It is regarding our Captain’s well-being,”

The smug look dropped into a faint scowl, and he gestured soundlessly to his office, marching in without checking to see if Spock followed and busted open his cabinets for his emergency stash. “What has he gotten himself into this time?” he asked, pouring out a glass for himself as he sat down.

“I must ask you to keep this to yourself. Under no circumstances should you discuss nor intimate of the subject I wish to speak to you to Ja-the Captain,”

McCoy blinked. “Well, shit, it’s that bad,” he muttered to himself. Spock politely refrained from commenting as the Doctor imbibed his alcoholic substance in one motion and prepared to pour another serving. “You know I can’t exactly agree to that, not if you’re asking me as the CMO,”

“Then I ask as a friend,” McCoy opened his mouth to speak, but Spock had prepared himself for rejection and delivered his pre-emptive counter-argument. “I am aware that our relationship has remained antagonistic, though improved since our first encounters with one another, and that the Captain is, perhaps, our only “common ground” as they say. But, if what degree of amity you feel for me is not sufficient, I implore you to think instead on the Captain’s behalf, and that the Captain considers me a trustworthy friend--”

“Spock,” the Doctor interrupted, holding up a hand. “Is this about Jimmy being trans?”

“She has informed you?” he asked, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“No. But you running around, asking all kinds of weird things, swearing people to secrecy, after what happened? That gets some heads to thinking, and I didn’t get to be CMO ‘cause I’m pretty,” he grinned for a moment before sighing. “The Captain is my friend, long before we became the Enterprise crew. I’ve seen her at her worst...and it’s not hard to figure out that your best friend cries about pretty girls when she’s drunk off her ass not because she can’t get laid,”

“I see,” Spock said. McCoy snorted and took a sip of his beverage. “Then I shall speak plainly: I would like your help in convincing the Captain to cease pretending to be “James.””

“What makes you think I can convince her to do that when I can barely get her to do her physicals?” he snarked, the usual fire back in his tone.

Spock hesitated. The gravity of what he was about to ask McCoy to do forcing him to once more consider all possible outcomes and debate if it the results it would produce would outweigh the potential cost. “As the ship’s CMO,” he began haltingly. McCoy’s eyes gleamed with recognition. “You can request for an immediate cessation to our current mission to retrieve necessary supplies for specific medical procedures.”

“Oh, you little pointy-eared devil,” McCoy said, getting ready to pour another drink even as he pulled up the form in question. “She’s going to hate us,”

“Yes,” he murmured thoughtfully. “But that may be a good thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you really think Bones has no idea what goes on in Kirk's brain?
> 
> Also, yes, I head-cannon that Scotty is a big gossip--he keeps his word and was mum on the details, but Spock going off the books?? So juicy.


	8. The Trouble with Spocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter guys!

“Captain, you have an incoming hail from Starfleet,” Nyota said, turning in her seat towards Kirk. “It’s classified as private and urgent, sir,”

Kirk finished signing the PADD a yeoman brought over for inspection. “I’ll take it in my ready room, Lieutenant,” she commanded, making her way towards the turbolift. Nyota nodded and began to reroute the frequency to the selected room. Spock covertly watched her go, mentally preparing for what was about to come next. He was not so foolish to presume that the following encounter would be anything but unpleasant, even to his Vulcan mind.

In an entirely too short period, the dreaded response came. _“Captain Kirk to Lieutenant Uhura,”_

“Uhura here,”

_“Please kindly inform Mister Spock and Mister McCoy to meet me in my ready room. That is all.”_

Her voice cut out before Nyota could respond in the affirmative. Her mouth dropped open, and she remained frozen for only a moment before giving Spock a dark look and hurrying to contact the Doctor.

Spock stood up and straighten his uniform. “Mister Sulu, you have the Conn,” he said, starting towards the turbolift. He met McCoy walking from the opposite direction to the ready room and paused to let him enter first, as he was nearest.

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” he snapped, waving his finger at Spock. “This is your idea. Man up, you coward, and be my shield in case she starts to throw things,”

“I highly doubt that the Captain will find the need to resort to such behavior,”

McCoy snorted. “That’s because she only shows you her good side. For some god-awful reason, she wants you to like her,”

The memory of Jaime’s unintentional declaration rose unbidden to the forefront of his mind, and he tightened the grasp he had on the wrist behind his back in order to stamp it back down into the recesses of his mind. “I am aware,” he spoke gravely.

McCoy looked as if he had not expected Spock to speak with such inflection, and that he did so, was unraveling the very foundation of his universe. Thankfully, he schooled his face into something more neutral, though infinitely more concerned. “Well, best head in and not keep her waiting,” he said, in a more muted tone.

Spock barely responded in kind, choosing to enter the code for the ready room and unable to remove the sense of foreboding. The kind one experiences when one knows one’s hypothesis was incorrect before the completion of the experiment.

He was met with the calm outline of the Captain sitting at the head of the table with her fingers steepled. “Gentlemen,” she spoke without glancing at them. “Please sit.”

Neither was ignorant enough to believe that anything other than a command. Gingerly, Spock took the seat to her left and McCoy opposite. She inhaled for an extended period of time beyond necessary for vital functions. He could only assume this was done for dramatic effect. “Would either one of you care to explain to me why I just received a concerned call from Admiral Komack regarding a Medical Form 89 Section C?”

McCoy pointedly looked at Spock, and soon Kirk’s eyes were directed his way as well. He suppressed the desire to roll his eyes. “Captain, I assure you, this was not done in an attempt to harm you or occur without your full awareness--”

“So, you deny that this form was requested at my benefit? Perhaps for some other crew member in need of _life-affirming medical methods_ that I am ignorant of?” she continued, voice icy.

Spock shut his eyes. “No, Captain, I can not deny that,”

Her hand slapped against the table. “Do you mean to make a fool of me?” she seethed. “How is it going to look to Starfleet if I can not control my commanding officers, huh? You didn’t see the pity in his eyes when he--” she stopped suddenly, anger rushing out of her as the blood rushed from her face.

“Oh god,” she choked out, slumping over with her hands holding her head. “He was looking at me like that because he thinks I’m _insane_. He-they all think Janice is still in my head,”

“That was a possibility, but one that works to our advantage,” Spock murmured.

Kirk glared at him. “How the hell will Starfleet thinking I’m crazy be beneficial? Spock, you’re supposed to be the logical one!”

“Darlin’,” McCoy began, reaching out to touch one of her hands and get her attention. “What the hobgoblin means is that Starfleet associates you coming out as trans as that poor excuse of a woman’s influence, and they associate her with being crazy, rightfully so. So, if you come out to the rest of the crew, they’ll--if they know what’s good for them--approve when they see that nothing has changed,”

Jaime scoffed. “Don’t call me “darlin’,” Bones, like I’m some chick you want to bang,”

“Would you rather I call you “Jimmy”?” he drawled, one eyebrow raised.

She shuddered. “God, no. I, uh, I’ve been going by Jaime,” she said, with a shy look at Spock. “‘S simple, you know?”

She sucked in a shaky breath. “So, this was, what, “stage one” of your guys’ plan? Which, sucks, by the way. Don’t think that either one of you is off the hook, yet. You still made me look like a goddamn fool if front of admiralty--you could have at least warned me, you know,”

“Jaime, if we had told you of our plan beforehand, you would have most certainly put a stop to it,” Spock admonished.

She ducked her head and grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, you’re probably right,”

“For what it may be worth,” Spock said. “McCoy was inebriated at the time he submitted the document,”

“Oi! What’re you throwing me under the bus for, you goddamn computer!” McCoy spluttered as Jaime laughed.

“Alright, fine, you’re both forgiven. Just, next time, don’t make it a next time. Dismissed,” she said with a little wave. All three of them stood up, but Spock reached out to take hold of Kirk’s elbow, pausing their departure until after McCoy had left.

“I am uncertain of your understanding of Vulcan culture, Jaime,”

“I’m not much familiar with it, no,” she said, eyes curious.

“Very well. Historically, Vulcans are a matriarchal society. While this has gone out of practice after Surak’s teachings, there are still some aspects of our culture profoundly influenced by those foundations,” He waited for her nod before falling to his knees in front of her, head bowed.

“Mesakh-guv-kosu, for my part in the dishonesty and sullying of thy name, I ask for thine forgiveness,”

“Thee are forgiven,” she responded in kind, voice slightly off and breathy. When Spock rose back to his feet, she was standing askew behind a chair.

“Are you returning to the Bridge, Captain?” he asked when she made no motion towards the door.

Curiously, she blushed. “Me? Oh, yup, yes, we’ve still half a shift left, of course, I’m going back to the Bridge. Just, uh, don’t wait up for me, I’ve got some things to take care of, and then I’ll be right back in my chair, don’t you worry. Nothing to worry about here,” she finished, a little fidgety.

“I shall leave you to it, Captain,” he simply said, turning on his heel to exit.

The Captain must have forgotten that Vulcan hearing was superior to humans’ because, just as the doors shut behind him, he heard a faint “Fuck, that was so hot.” Unlike humans, Vulcans could control their response to arousing stimuli. However, despite humankind's ability to become aroused “at the drop of a hat,” Spock could not help the pleased feeling that accompanied the proof of being the sole cause of such a thing with Jaime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally planned for a more explosive response from Kirk, but she wasn't interested. She's matured as a person from cocky upstart. There will be more next chapter.  
> In case you were curious:
> 
> Medical Form 89 Section C does not exist (to my knowledge). It basically is a form a CMO fills out to request temporary hiatus of the current mission in order to perform "life-affirming medical methods" with equipment not currently available to simply go ahead and do so. Section A is the original list of what constitutes as "life-affirming"(such as any organ replacement surgery), Section C as the second addendum includes, among others, any treatment desired by a patient seeking to modify their body to match their gender. Because "Turnabout Intruder" happened so recently and was so disastrous, Starfleet obviously knew that this was the most likely reason for such a request (also the fact that it was signed by Bones and Spock, as patients can't sign on their own behalf for legal reasons, and Spock is the closest in rank to Kirk and is acting as "superior officer" giving permission). 
> 
> Mesakh-guv-kosu - literally, transgender woman (of humanoid species). As before in Chapter Two, it's made up from VLD and means something close to honored transgender female. Also, as you may have guessed, Spock did this for reasons somewhat nefarious but also to apologize sincerely the best way he knew how (not explicitly canon, but follows canon Vulcan behavior).


	9. The Choice on the Edge of Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh you guys, I have so many feels about this chapter. Thank you for coming along with me on this journey.
> 
> Title comes from one of the best TOS episodes in history ("The City on the Edge of Forever") because I indirectly quoted from it twice (both by Spock if you were wondering)

Jaime T. Kirk’s intelligence, in human terms, was nothing short of genius level. Her innovative and strategic thinking was unparalleled, her dedication to the pursuits of studies effortlessly spectacular. There were few who attempted, and succeeded, in shortening the standard four-year tour at Starfleet Academy and, in her case, doing so while garnering a reputation for having both a significant extracurricular social life and extracurricular academic achievements.

So, Spock remained frustratingly perplexed when the Captain did not begin to so much as suggest that her true identity was something other than this persona to the rest of the crew. Given that he was the only other person whose knowledge of Jaime was equal to his own, Spock once more visited Doctor Leonard McCoy of his own volition.

“Oh, goddammit! Not you again!” McCoy complained, having been in the process of reviewing a patient’s status. This time he did not bother with giving a motion to follow, he simply went straight to his cabinet. 

“What is it now?” he said, with a sour inflection, pouring out a glass. “Has our Captain somehow escaped and ran off to join the circus, so she’ll never have to see us again?”

“I do not understand how that would be the first possibility that your mind would entertain,”  
Spock answered. It was met with a scowl and another shot of alcohol.

“I know you do that cutesy thing with Jaime on purpose, so don’t pretend to my face that you don’t understand human idioms by now,” he muttered, sinking into his chair.

Despite the fact that the Doctor was not entirely wrong, his terminology was irksome to Spock. “Very well. While improbable and inaccurate, you have guessed upon the proximity of the matter I wish to discuss with you. Jaime is, indeed, doing everything in her power to avoid fulfilling her promise of “coming out” to the crew,”

McCoy snorted. “That’s your first mistake, Spock. You assumed that she did make a promise,” he said, crossing his arms.

“I am aware that she did not explicitly state so, Doctor. You humans rely on implicit understandings which make for confusing arrangements,”

“Uhuh, and that’s where she hoodwinked you,” he stated, raising a finger to point. “She knew that you knew humans like to imply things, so she took advantage that you’d assume she meant to do the thing that was implied but is now happily avoiding us because neither of us did anything to hold her to it properly,”

Spock furrowed his brows in musing. “If you had anticipated such a thing, why did you allow it to happen?”

The Doctor sighed, rubbing his face with his hand and murmuring, “Blasted lovesick fools.” He must have forgotten to account for Vulcan hearing.

“Look,” he said, leaning forwards in his seat. “You two clearly have some things you need to work out, and I’ve done my fair share of forcing Jaime to comply to what’s best for her already. This is on you,”

Spock stiffened his posture. “I am unaware of whatever delusion you seem to be suffering from, Doctor, that causes you to think such a thing,”

“Bullshit,” he said evenly. They shared a stare into the other’s eyes in silence.

“Well,” McCoy continued, eventually breaking the moment by reaching for his notes. “If you aren’t going to admit it, then there’s nothing more I can help you with. You’re on your own, hobgoblin,”

“Very well. I take my leave of you,” Spock said, exiting without further ceremony. He spared a moment to reflect on whatever lapse of logic had led him to believe that McCoy would have been of use to him.

His mind, otherwise occupied by his reflection, ordered his legs to take him to the other person in his consideration without conscious desire. Kirk greeted him warmly, “Spock! What’s with the long face?”

“Why have you not revealed yourself to the crew?”

He blinked. He had not meant to speak so explicitly, without regard for human social customs. It was a lapse in the convention that had not occurred in many years. Given Kirk’s similarly shocked expression, she had not expected this either. Nonetheless, with the “cat out of the bag,” he might as well continue.

He stepped in without another word and seated himself in their usual spot, setting up the chessboard to give Jaime some privacy to collect her thoughts. She joined him just as he made the first move, sitting with proper posture for once. The first few turns passed in silence. Spock, having said his piece, awaited her response without prompting.

Just as he was beginning to form the opinion that nothing more might be said, she blurted, “Zugzwang,”

He folded his hands atop the table so as to encourage her with the perception of attentiveness. She sighed, looking at her hands in her lap. “We’re playing chess, and you’ve cornered me. My natural inclination would be to pass or make no move, but the pieces on the board don’t offer me that possibility. But our game doesn’t have a specified time limit, so…”

“You are “running out the clock,” as they say, as to force the game into a draw and rematch,” he finished, easily figuring out her thought process now.

“Yes,” she confirmed, working her jaw. “But I was hoping you would just...forfeit.”

He considered this. He and McCoy had pushed her into a position she had never imagined herself in without her consent. She had made many vocal protestations against this arrangement for many valid reasons. Given the Captain’s defiant and stubborn nature, the only logical end was that she would stall until she could devise a better solution and hope that her stubbornness outlasted both his and McCoy’s.

There was only one flaw in this line of reasoning. 

“Why would you choose to remain unhappy?”

She got up and paced the room. Spock watched her smooth stride, stopping and starting at random intervals, as she ran a hand through her hair. It was approaching regulation limits. She must have realized that mentally, emotionally, and physically, she was approaching a deadline in which she would have to make a permanent choice one way or the other. Her distress was palpable; seemingly so great that he could empathically register it without skin contact and he was not an accomplished touch-telepath.

He rose from his seat and telegraphed his movements so as not to startle her and to provide ample time for her to reject his advance. She did not. His fingers curled around her wrist with all the intimacy of a lover; this gesture was not lost on either of them. “Jaime, I do not understand.”

The best phrase to describe her actions was that she crumpled in on herself. It was as if her body suffered from a force of impact so strong that the resulting force created a zone of crumpled matter. 

“It’s only me,” she whispered, still refusing to meet his gaze. “Don’t you get it? I mind-melded with you from an alternate timeline, and I saw us. Them. But that Kirk...It’s only me that’s defective. So, if I--if I stop pretending who’s to say I won’t lose everything else _he_ has? What if continuing to pretend I’m a guy is the only reason I get to keep the _Enterprise_?”

“Jaime, that is--”

“Illogical?” she laughed without any humor in it, looking up at him finally with wet eyes. “I know, but being miserable is what got me into Starfleet. It’s so hard to give up the feeling that I can be happy and have the _Enterprise_ \--I’d rather risk misery than give her up. I can’t; I just can’t lose her now. She’s all I’ve got.”

Spock gripped her chin, taking precautions to make sure the anger within him did not translate into a harsh grip. “I have never heard anything further from the truth. Jaime, even if there was ever a universe in which our crew did not devote themselves to you which, I must confess, my mind is incapable of conceiving any such possibility, you would still not be alone. 

“Even if there were never an insufferable human doctor to venture with you into the far reaches of space, you would still not be alone. As long as there exist our counterparts in any universe, my place is always at your side. I have been, and always shall be your friend.”

He allowed the hand that gripped her chin to drift over the side of her face, ghosting at the psi points that his misplaced elder self must have touched, and tucked a rebel strand behind her ear. The distance between them was so short that he could trace the origin of the heat radiating off of either one of them. Her cheeks were red. He had always found the color fascinating as it was so different from his own; it had amused him that humans were so egocentric to call the color of their blood symbolic for passion and enjoyed the few times he had drawn it from Nyota in the midst of such passion.

“No matter the choice, no matter the consequences, you shall always have me, Jaime,” he finished. Hearing the rasp within his voice, he took a step back to allow air to pass in between them and cool whatever had ignited such an emotional display.

“But you have Nyota,” she protested softly.

“I do,” Spock said. He paused. “But Nyota is not the only one who needs me.”

Jaime sucked in a breath greedily and gently removed her wrist from his grasp so as to take her own step back. Her fingers roamed over her face where his once touched her. “Okay,” she said shakily. She took another excessive inhale and met his gaze with a determined jut of her chin. “Okay, tomorrow, at the start of our shift we’ll make sure the entire Senior crew is present, and I’ll be there. The real me.”

*~*~*

Spock stepped out of the turbolift first. Nyota glanced at him before returning her gaze to her station, Sulu and Chekov were discussing a matter in fervent whispers while maintaining an ever-present watch on their course, McCoy was successful in bringing Scott to the Bridge--though, given his sour expression and Mister Scott’s animated one, it was likely not a success he enjoyed. The remaining crew members attended to their stations dutifully, paying no heed to their lack of Captain as it was not late enough into the beginning of their shift to be of concern.

This was as unassuming and impassive of an audience as they would ever get. And yet.

“Captain,” he murmured, turning slightly towards Kirk who was bunching the hem of her dress uniform as she flexed her hands. 

She had made a valiant argument for her green dress, citing that it would be more comfortable for her, but Spock had dissuaded her into accepting the standard Captain’s uniform in feminine form as per regulation standards. Her appearance in the same Captain’s uniform, with the minor change in that the uniform now reflected her gender correctly, would present the front that they desired; that is, that she was still the same person she had been before Doctor Janice Lester and was still their ever-competent Captain. Kirk was not happy having to request the change in wardrobe through Starfleet channels officially but agreed that it would be easier, in the long run, to start now and prove herself to Starfleet Command with the acceptance of her crew in this manner.

There was, of course, another reason Spock did not wish for Jaime to wear the dress he had given. But that was a personal, and entirely too emotional, of a reason to ever speak. Nor did he have rights to voice that he hoarded her appearance in that dress for reasons not dissimilar to lust; neither Jaime nor Nyota would appreciate the sentiment.

She jerked her head to the side, popping her jaw audibly, though perhaps only within Spock’s superior hearing range. “I can’t do this,” she hissed, directing her gaze to her boots. “I’m not ready,” she continued, her voice failing her.

“Jaime, let me help.” He offered his hand, and she sucked in her protests, eyeing his proffered palm with a hint of true blush across her cheeks.

She looked into his eyes, searchingly. He did not hide anything from her. She nodded once, jerkily, and reached out to grab ahold of his hand, body coiled like it was prepared for war. They stepped out as one.

Though the Doctor was aware of the circumstances, it was Nyota who noticed them first. She glanced up, and then once again, eyes wide as she took in not only her Captain’s appearance but also their hands clasped together. She frowned, but Spock could not tell by her expression what emotions or thoughts may be swirling underneath. It was worrisome.

“Finally, you brat!” McCoy nearly shouted, making his way over to the duo. “I was sure you were going to play hooky and miss your grand reveal,” he finished, adding a light jab to her arm.

She rubbed at it faintly, seemingly not out of pain but out of nerves. “Yeah, well--” Whatever she was going to say was never finished.

“Oi, Cap’n!” Montgomery Scott’s voice called out, turning the rest of the heads in the room. Kirk tensed up once more, her grip on Spock’s hand, were he human, nothing but bone-crushingly tight. Whether the man had finally learned some tact, or Kirk’s gaze simply that full of warning, but he proceeded in a more gentle tone.

“Ah, I was just gonna say ya look lovely,” he finished, rubbing the back of his head. “The dress really suits ya,” he added in an undertone, a knowing look sent Spock’s way. Spock merely raised an eyebrow in response and Mister Scott chuckled to himself.

Kirk huffed, unaware of their exchange, relief smoothing some of her steel. “Thanks, Scotty. I appreciate it,”

She cleared her throat, covertly dropping her hold on Spock, and addressed the many eyes on her. Both Spock and McCoy took their natural places at her side and Spock, though he could not vouch for McCoy, was affecting his most overtly withering expression so as to discourage any more unnecessary comments.

“So, you might have noticed that I’m, uh,” she faltered, once more drifting towards her hemline to rub the edges soothingly between her fingers as she gathered her words. “Well, shit, guys. I’m trans. I always have been, and after certain illuminating circumstances in the recent past, I couldn’t keep pretending. So, this is me. This is who your Captain is--any questions?”

Chekov put his hand in the air. “How would you like us to refer to you, Captain?”

The remaining tension evaporated from her shoulders. “She/her, please. And, uh, for the record, I’m changing my name to Jaime T. Kirk,” She glanced around. “Anything else?”

No one seemed to have a desire to say anything. “Well, in that case,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Return to your stations; we’ve got a job to do.” 

Command was infused into her tone so that the cluster of people scattered to their business, including Scott. McCoy clasped a friendly hand on Kirk’s shoulder, sharing a meaningful look between the both of them, as he passed by to join Scott to return to their respective areas. Spock inclined his head and relieved the officer at his station.

Engrossed in his work, he paid only half a mind to the slightly awkward atmosphere. Kirk must have been bothered by this, as she eventually got up to begin making rounds. Distantly, he was aware that Nyota was making similar motions and prepared himself for what may come.

“She’s cute.”

“I beg your pardon?” Spock asked eyebrow quirked at Nyota’s tone as she approached his side.

“Our Captain, she’s cute,” she repeated, gesturing towards Jaime, who had a pleased flush still lightly staining her cheeks as she checked each station. Her brief conversation, full of the same Kirkian airs as always, seemed to help diffuse the remaining awkwardness while also restoring her confidence to its normal if borderline too arrogant nature.

He crossed his arms behind his back. “I fail to grasp what it is you are trying to convey, Nyota,”

She scoffed, but her smile softened. “I’m just saying. She’s cute. I wouldn’t be opposed to having her as a third,” she said, with a chaste kiss on Spock’s cheek. “Especially since you’re already heading there.”

Spock stiffened, lips parting open just slightly, as his eyes darted between Nyota and Jaime. It had never occurred to him--he would have never _dared_ to consider that he could have _both_. Nyota’s grin widened. “Just something to think about,” she continued, walking back to her station.

Spock watched her go and switched back to watching his Captain, who had turned at just the same time. She caught his eye and smiled, shy but brightly, mouthing ‘thank you’ before reclaiming her Captain’s chair with a flourish that unintentionally flashed some amount of her thigh. Spock could feel his ears get hot and his cheeks warm. He returned his gaze to focus on the instruments data readings.

Indeed, it was something to think about. Though perhaps, it would be better suited for consideration in the privacy of his chambers in the-- _very much_ \--not too distant future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, yes, that's how this story ends.
> 
> I'm considering doing a sequel with Janice actually in it from Jaime's POV but that won't happen for awhile if I do get around to doing it.
> 
> Please leave a review on your way out if you're so inclined!


End file.
